My Entry Into the Lost Room
by darkinja
Summary: [The Lost Room] I started off innocent and naive. So sure that I knew reality. I soon learned the truth. It's a strange world we live in.
1. The First Object Found

"They call him 'The Weasel'," she began, "and he's the only you'd be able to get to." I would have to trust her word. So very few of the people connected to these "objects" tell the truth, and this one seems as shady as the rest. If she's not right, then I've blown my whole savings on thin air. Maybe I could get a favor from the mob if I needed to come back…big men in black suits tend to deserve refunds.

"Nice talking to you!" I faked a smile. She wasn't impressed.

"Just leave!"

I thought it best to comply. I'd never be able to get mobsters…

I left the dry cleaning place and headed west. The Newspaper, she'd said. That's what I was after. I'd walked in, set my money down and asked her for something easy to get my hands on. What's easier than a trip to the local library? Sure, the librarians would need some convincing, but after all, I'm Marshall Huddersfield, the best liar this side of the Mississippi. Or at least I'd like to think so. Some people see right through me, like that girl at the dry cleaners, or my ex-wife…

"Look out!" somebody yelled. Well now why would somebody…? I glanced to my left and was starring down a bus, speeding towards me. I didn't think—I just ran. It stopped in time, and I was never in any danger. I'm an idiot.

The man that had yelled at me ran to me, and asked if I was all right. He was tall, with unkempt hair and broken glasses. His tie was wrinkled, his shirt was missing a button and he was covered in mud up to his knees. But his coat, an old fashioned brown overcoat, was perfectly clean and pressed. I told him I was fine, and he continued down ahead of me. Such an odd man.


	2. Securing It From The Library

The library was around fifteen miles away. From my seat on the bus, I saw on the seat across from me a missing person sign. The man in it was middle-aged and unshaven. Next to his picture was that of a little girl, aged about 10 or so. I couldn't read the names but I reflected on how society was going downhill. Hmmf! Like I was one to talk. I spent my life protecting a pocket watch my grandfather had given me only to lose it down a drain some rainy afternoon. I saw it in the gutter edging toward the grate and just kept walking. I suppose it's that disrespect for our elders that is ruining the world. But who cares?

My thoughts again traveled to the pocket watch as I approached the library. After all, it had been that watch that led me here. I never would have gone to the police if I hadn't lost it. I never would have talked to that police captain about the strange things she'd seen, and I never would have followed that trail to the dry cleaner's, The Newspaper, and The Weasel. Speaking of which, I've got to go visit him once I'm done here.

"Are you a friend of the library?" the young lady behind the counter asked. I answered no, and she returned, "Then I'm afraid the originals are off limits. You can look at the copies, though, if you like!" She had enthusiasm. I hate enthusiasm. It makes my skin crawl the amount of effort some people give to do nothing. "Copies, eh? I suppose it might be nice to at least look at what I'll be stealing," I thought. I headed over to the viewers and found the one that could show me newspapers from before 1965. The Gallup Gazette was what I needed to find, their issue for May 4, 1961. I turned the dials quickly and slowed around 1962 for a better look. What luck! There it was! Right where she said it would be. Now, all I need to do is find the original. The index had the original listed as recovered by the library. What a newspaper from New Mexico was doing there I'll never know. I knew that I needed to have it. I believed that with a little luck, I could get out of there without too much of a fuss.

The next woman I saw was an older lady, with gray hair, wearing one of those shawls that the grandmothers on TV wear. I told her I was from the National Archives, and was under direct orders to bring that issue of the paper to the President of the United States right away. She was skeptical, as I knew she would be, so I flashed her my bus pass and told her that time was of the essence. I said that it was a matter of national security, a matter of life and death! She didn't buy it. So I faked some honesty.

"My son came to me yesterday with tears in his eyes," I lied. "He told me that everyone was bringing in amazing Show-and-Tell projects and that he'd have nothing to bring." I ended with a plea, "So please, for my son, can I borrow that paper for just one day?" To seal the deal, I offered to let her keep my gold wristwatch until I brought it back. $20 piece of junk that ran three minutes slow; I was glad to be free of it.

She took me back and spoke to me along the way. "You know, you're lucky to have come here now. That newspaper was just donated by a nice young man named James Stanek two days ago." I was intrigued. Certainly he must have known of its properties.

"Is that so?" I asked.

"Yep. He said he didn't need it anymore. What an odd thing to say."

If only she had known.


	3. The Newspaper and Its Power

With paper in hand, I headed back towards the other side of town. Ms. Kang had said that Howard Montague, The Weasel, hangs out outside of a bookstore in Las Vegas. From him, I supposed, I could learn more about these…objects. After all, now that I own one myself, why not have more?

The airport was where I would test my Newspaper. Ms. Kang had told me how to use it and everything, and how to test its authenticity. I'd stopped off at a diner and poured coffee on it. I was satisfied to find that the coffee rolled harmlessly onto the ground, leaving my paper unchanged. There was, however, a coffee stain already there. The upper right-hand corner had a ring on it; somebody had used my paper as a coaster.

Arriving at the airport, I emptied my pockets of all metal objects, and left my car. I then opened my paper, and was fully able to see through it. I couldn't even read what it said.

"Invisibility," Ms. Kang had said, "when the paper is open to page A8, and being held by an individual, no one will be able to see you. It's great for sneaking around and junk. $5000." If it failed to work, as I'd always suspected it might, I'd sell it and hire some mobsters.

After opening the paper, and after noticing my ability to see through it, I failed to note any change in my appearance. I gave myself a downward glance and observed a whole person from the neck down. "Maybe only my face has become invisible," I thought.

Newspaper open, I walked through the lanes of the parking lot in search of another person, but spotted a car with tinted windows and figured that would do just as well. A peak in their mirrored surface revealed nothing. I saw the sky, and the pavement, and the car behind me, but no me. Even my shoes, outside of the newspaper itself, were gone.


	4. The Trip and Vegas

From this point on, travel was a breeze. I simply had to find an empty seat on a departing plane to Las Vegas without being heard. Easy enough though it was, I still had to sit on a plane for an hour with nothing to do. I couldn't sleep for fear of becoming visible again, and the in-flight movie was Bio-Dome with Paully Shore. I was surprised they still play that thing.

Once in Vegas I still had to find that bookstore. Asking around for "The Sood" didn't get me anywhere. I eventually made my way toward the strip, figuring a little gambling would relax my racing mind. And then I saw him. The man from the Lost Person's poster on the bus! He was just across the street, his little girl holding his hand and a woman with wavy black hair next to him. All three of them saw me, first the man, then the other two. The man led them into a casino, and I knew I had to follow him.

This man was connected to The Objects. I could feel it. I had to find him! He took his family down a corridor, and I followed. They went through a door, and I followed. They couldn't lose me. I was right on the trail, and I had an edge. One swift movement, and I was invisible behind my newspaper. They kept moving, a little slower now, and eventually left the casino. I trailed them down the sidewalk, only to find them gone when I arrived. They must have known I was still there, but how?


End file.
